Escape with me
by Jaynii
Summary: A monologue from Holden's point of view. One shot


Escape with me

They sent me to my room again. I'm always here, being punished. I never seem to leave.

What they don't know is I like it. This is my space. No one can disturb me here. The door is always locked, just the way I like it.

Staring up at the celling, I like to watch the dust dance in the sunbeams, escaping from the cracks. I like it just being me; I'm the only one I need. I can't hurt me.

But I'll hurt them. I'll make them pay for this, for what they have done to me.

"Darling, your father and I received your report card today, it's not quite up to scratch so we were thinking…"

"Shut up! You're always trying to change me in some way."

"Honey, we're only doing what's best for you."

"Don't make me laugh! The best thing you could do for me is get me the hell away from here!" and I slammed the door in her face.

I hate my parents. They never bloody understand me. Throughout my entire life they have never understood. Why can't they just accept me for who I am? Criticising me on every level, telling me I'm not good enough and won't amount to anything and they call it fucking advice! I hate it, I hate it! They will never understand; no one bloody understands. I am the only one who can see the world for what it really is; a hell hole full of phoney bastards.

I went into the kitchen. The knife was just laid there; this was the key I was looking for. I ran my fingertips along the icy metal of the blade. I pressed the unemotional weapon to my lips and felt them tingle with the contact, as if it was a kiss from death itself. I licked the blade and felt warm liquid ooze into my mouth. It tasted metallic and in that moment the lust in my unconscious was released.

I hid in the cupboard by the entrance to the kitchen door.

A few minutes passed before my father emerged to claim his last cup of coffee. His bulbous suited shadow blocked the beam of light shining in from the crack in the door. I knew it was now this was my moment. I leapt out from behind the door and plunged the knife deep into his back, piercing his cold black heart. I twisted it and heard the knife scrape against the bone. He went down slapping against the floor. His body was motionless. I was nearly free. Killing my father was relatively easy just like drowning my neighbour's puppy was.

There it was. The dust. Dancing and twirling around my father's body, free to roam around wherever it wanted.

The door clicked as she returned from her shopping trip. I froze. Her eyes went cold. The milk bottle fell from her hand, scattering broken glass in a mosaic over the floor.

I dragged her to the bathroom.

The last of the day's sunlight shined through the window illuminating the glittering particles gliding freely through the air. I grabbed my dad's cut throat razor from the sink and knelt down beside her.

I should have hit her harder with that lamp. She woke just before I could complete my escape.

"Sweetheart, it's ok, just put down the razor." She pleaded with me, begging for her life as if it was worth anything. Telling me I was a "good boy" and that they had been wrong to hurt me so bad, that things would be better if I didn't hurt them and put down the knife. She lies; all she ever does is lie. I pushed the harsh edge deep into the pale flesh and dragged it along her throat. Her ruby essence dripped from the wound and pooled beneath her head, coating her long brunette hair. I untied her and spread her limbs out. I drew lines along her inner forearms and wrists watching the life pour out of her. I ripped the fabric from her body and slit a line from the base of her throat to the top of her navel. Before I laid the razor to sleep, I closed her eyes and divided her eyelids. She looked so peaceful and angelic laying there, her soul escaping from her flesh prison as I did from mine.

As my final act of freedom I took the heart that had once loved me. I pulled it close to my chest as if I could feel it beat. I stroked it and wiped the blood from it onto my cheeks, feeling close to my mother for one final time, the dust enclosing around us.

The harsh tug from my straight jacket ensnared me and woke me from my beloved dream.

"Come on Holden. Your parents are here to see you."

As he pulled me up by my straight jacket and dragged me to the asylum common room I muttered.

"Get out as early as you can: they fuck you up, your mum and dad."


End file.
